


What's Puzzling You Is The Nature Of My Game

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Angel Adrift [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angels, Darcy is Michael, Gen, Lucifer is violent, POV Alternating, Phil is Lucifer, Supernatural-canon levels of violence, Tags to be added as necessary, Warning: violence, including character tags, tony is gabriel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arresting Phil Coulson for being loyal to Captain Rogers wasn't the brightest idea Alexander Pierce ever had. Trying to have him killed was an even worse one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**What’s Puzzling You Is The Nature of My Game**

 

_…Lucifer had Kali at his mercy. And Lucifer didn’t really do mercy._

_Lucifer was about to kill the upstart little pagan when something flung him backwards, into a wall._

_“Lucy,” said a familiar voice, and Lucifer looked up to see his little brother, standing tall, and holding a sword. “I’m home.”_

_Lucifer pulled himself to his feet and started to walk forward, intent on finishing what he’d started, despite Gabriel’s interruption. But Gabriel stepped forward, sword raised, and said, “Not this time.”_

_As Lucifer watched, waiting to see what Gabriel was up to, the other archangel helped Kali to her feet._

_“Guys?” said Gabriel, and Sam and Dean reappeared from behind an overturned table. “Get her out of here.”_

_Lucifer watched the two vessels leave with the goddess, but his eyes were all for the littlest archangel, trying to figure out his motives._

_“Over a girl – Gabriel, really?” Lucifer said, allowing himself to sound faintly amused, even though he wasn’t amused at all. “I knew you were slumming, but…” Lucifer wrinkled his nose. “I hope you didn’t catch anything.”_

_Gabriel gave him a long look._

_“Lucifer, you’re my brother, and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”_

_“What did you just say to me?” Lucifer demanded in a low, dangerous voice, stepping forward – but Gabriel raised his sword defensively, and Lucifer came to a stop._

_“Look at yourself!” said Gabriel. “‘Boo hoo, Daddy was mean to me so I’m going to smash up all his toys.’”_

_“Watch your tone…” Lucifer started, his voice low and cold, but Gabriel went right on talking._

_“Play the victim all you want, but you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best,” and there was something resigned in Gabriel’s gaze, resigned and worn. “More than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn’t handle it. So all this is a great big temper-tantrum.” He raised his sword, and looked unflinchingly into Lucifer’s eyes. “Time to grow up.”_

_“Gabriel,” said Lucifer, trying a new tactic, “if you’re doing this for Michael…”_

_“Screw him,” Gabriel said bluntly. “If he were standing here, I’d shiv his ass too.”_

_Lucifer shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing._

_“You disloyal…”_

_“Oh, I’m loyal,” said Gabriel, and Lucifer stared at him, trying to figure him out. “To them,” Gabriel finished._

_“Who? These so-called gods?” Lucifer let condescension drip into his tone._

_“To people, Lucifer. People,” Gabriel emphasised. Lucifer thought this through._

_“So you’re willing to die for a pile of cockroaches?” Lucifer asked, and the question was partly an attempt to make Gabriel reconsider, and partly a genuine question. Because if Gabriel didn’t stop this, didn’t stop messing around, getting in Lucifer’s way…_

_“Why?” Lucifer asked._

_“Because Dad was right,” said Gabriel, a flicker of a smile appearing. “They are better than us–”_

_“They are broken, flawed, abortions!” Lucifer argued, losing his composure for a moment._

_“Damn right they’re flawed,” Gabriel surprisingly agreed. He took a deep breath, and went right on arguing. “But a lot of them try – to do better, to forgive,” and Gabriel’s tone was pointed, and if Lucifer hadn’t already been angry, the implicit reprimand would have been enough to make him so, “and you should see the Spearmint Rhino.”_

_The two archangels locked eyes, Lucifer’s angry, Gabriel’s accusing._

_“I’ve been running a long time,” said Gabriel, “but I’m in the game now, and I’m not on your side, or Michael’s.” There was that tiny flicker of a smile again. “I’m on theirs.”_

_For a moment they just stared at each other, neither willing to back down._

_“Brother, don’t make me do this,” Lucifer whispered, because he didn’t want to kill Gabriel, but if his little brother was too stubborn to get out of his way, he would._

_“No one makes us do anything,” was Gabriel’s reply._

_“I know you think you’re doing the right thing, Gabriel,” Lucifer said softly, “but I know where your heart truly lies.”_

_The Gabriel in front of Lucifer furrowed his brow, and Lucifer turned – just in time to catch the swing of a second Gabriel’s sword, and force it back into Gabriel’s stomach. The real Gabriel choked, his expression filled with pained disbelief._

_“Here,” said Lucifer, looking down into his brother’s eyes. “Amateur hocus-pocus. Don’t forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother.”_

_Lucifer looked down into Gabriel’s pained, betrayed gaze, and rammed the sword home –_

– and Phil woke up, his face wet with tears, as his cell phone went off. He rolled onto his side, reaching for where his phone sat on the bedside table. The caller ID showed a tiny picture of Maria Hill’s face.

“Coulson,” Phil answered the call.

“Fury’s been shot,” Maria said without preamble. “You need to come in.”

“I’m on my way,” said Phil. Maria hung up without giving any more details.

Phil was in and out of the shower in under a minute – just long enough to wake him up a little and shake off the lingering horror of the nightmare – and within fifteen was on his way to SHIELD headquarters in D.C.

In the car Phil let his mind drift slightly, back to his nightmare.

It wasn’t the first dream he’d had from Lucifer’s point of view. Phil wasn’t sure if it was because he’d briefly become Lucifer last Christmas (before ripping out his Grace), or if it was because of the vial of Grace he carried everywhere with him, but Phil had had a few dreams about being Lucifer. All of them could easily be classed as nightmares – Lucifer, trapped alone in the dark for aeons, Lucifer killing various people, and now, Lucifer killing his brother.

Phil tried to keep his grip on the wheel relaxed. In the dream, Lucifer had felt a sense of triumph at Gabriel’s death, glad that he had come out on top, despite his detached sorrow that it had been necessary. But now that he was awake all Phil could feel was a sense of horror. Lucifer had willingly murdered his own brother for doing the right thing, and the fact that Gabriel was someone Phil knew and liked only made it all worse.

What stuck out most of all was how certain Lucifer had been that he was in the right. As far as Lucifer was concerned, his actions were completely justified – no matter how many lives he ended or ruined.

Phil had never wanted this kind of insight into the mind of a genocidal serial killer, but he was getting it anyway.

He was starting to understand why Tony Stark – Gabriel – had been so tense, after Phil had regained and then torn out Lucifer’s Grace. Michael’s tears, on the other hand, became less and less explicable.

Phil sighed as he parked the car, and put the nightmare from his mind as best he could.

The moment he went inside, he was ushered into an observation room where Fury was being operated on.

Phil had barely been there five minutes before they called it.

Phil stood at the observation window, looking at Nick Fury’s body and feeling sick at heart.

A glance around the room showed that he wasn’t the only one: Maria Hill looked grim, Natasha Romanov looked like she might cry if she were anyone else, while Captain Rogers looked deeply troubled.

“Would someone like to tell me what happened here?” Phil asked, in his best calm voice. It was Maria who filled him in: with short, clipped sentences she explained the events leading up to Fury’s death. When she was done she excused herself, telling the others that there were arrangements which had to be made.

Phil didn’t know why Fury had chosen to go to Roger’s place. He didn’t know why someone had decided to assassinate the Director. But his gut told him that something was going on, and it wasn’t good.

* * *

Somehow, in all the fuss that followed, Rogers slipped away, without a word to anyone. Phil would have checked on him, probably, but there were far too many other things for him to be doing.

Project Insight was proceeding on-schedule, so that was at least one good thing to be going on with. All of SHIELD was shaken up by the Director’s death, including Phil. He’d known Fury for years, had worked with him on all kinds of projects, and had felt a certain measure of attachment to the man. The grief Phil felt was real, but more than that, Phil felt uneasy. He didn’t know who had wanted Fury dead, or why they’d chosen to strike now, but the timing... that couldn’t be coincidental, Phil thought.

Shaken up though SHIELD might be, there were procedures in place for this sort of occurrence. It didn’t take long for Alexander Pierce to come sweeping in, using his position as the head of the World Security Council to temporarily take Fury’s place as Director.

“Agent Coulson,” the man said gravely, offering his hand for Phil to shake. Phil shook it. Pierce had a good, firm grip, and he met Phil’s eyes steadily as they shook hands.

The vial of angelic Grace beneath Phil’s shirt turned suddenly hot against his skin, and he controlled a wince, wondering what was going on.

“Director Pierce,” said Phil in return. The moment he let go of Pierce’s hand, the vial of Grace returned to its usual mild warmth. Phil regarded Pierce more warily than before, although it didn’t show in his expression.

Pierce made a pained face at Phil’s greeting.

“Please, don’t call me Director,” he said. “I hate to feel like I’m taking Nick’s place. We both know he was the best Director SHIELD’s had since Peggy Carter herself gave up the job.”

Phil gave Pierce a sympathetic smile, and made a murmur of agreement, even as he continued to wonder at the Grace’s reaction to Pierce.

“So, tell me about Project Insight,” said Pierce, as they began walking.

“Everything’s proceeding as planned,” said Phil. “It should be operational exactly on-schedule.”

“Good,” said Pierce. He gave Phil a penetrating look. “No one’s come to you with any concerns?”

“No,” said Phil, although behind the professional mask he was wondering at the question. “To my knowledge, there’s been no problems.” He looked back at Pierce. “Do _you_ have concerns, sir?”

“No, no,” Pierce waved away the question, “I just wanted to make sure that everything’s going as it should.”

“Of course,” said Phil. “Well, you have nothing to worry about. On that front, at least,” Phil added, thinking of Fury’s untimely assassination.

Pierce immediately knew what Phil meant.

“Quite,” he said, mouth quirking wryly, his gaze filled with so much understanding that Phil couldn’t help but like him.

“Is that all you wanted to know, sir?” Phil asked politely. “It’s just, everything’s been in disarray since Director Fury...” he let his words trail off. “There’s a lot to do to keep Project Insight on track, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Of course,” said Pierce. “I understand you’re a busy man, Agent Coulson – can I call you Phil?”

“Certainly,” Phil agreed.

“I’ll just take up a moment more of your time, and then you can get back to the important business,” Pierce said, with a smile to show that he was joking.

“Whatever you need,” said Phil.

Pierce’s expression slipped into something a little more sombre.

“I have some – concerns,” he began. “About certain members of the Avengers. Well. One member in particular.”

 _Oh_ , Phil thought, and braced himself for trouble. The Avengers Initiative had successfully prevented Loki’s invasion from occurring, but there had been a lot of loose ends that the WSC hadn’t been happy about. Loki had gotten away, and SHIELD had no idea where he was now, and worst of all, SHIELD had lost the Tesseract, and with all it their hopes of unlimited energy.

All of it, in the end, had been down to Michael, the unpredictable, powerful archangel, who gave orders rather than took them, and who seemed rather aloof from humanity, barring a few specific connections.

SHIELD kept track of Michael’s comings and goings as best they could, but for the most part, Michael’s activities were a mystery to them. SHIELD had placed Darcy Lewis’ family under observation, and Michael had visited them on a number of occasions, occasionally disappearing with Eloise Lewis to an unknown location. Michael had also been seen out and about at times with Tony Stark, who seemed to have invited Michael to join the rest of the Avengers at Stark Tower. Unfortunately, what happened inside the Tower was as much a mystery as whatever Michael got up to outside of it – Stark’s security was very good, and the AI that guarded the Tower was impossible to fool.

Phil suspected that security was even better since Stark had become Gabriel, but he’d kept the events of Christmas to himself, even from Fury.

What it came down to was that Michael was a wild card – a particularly dangerous one. Phil had no doubt that Pierce saw her as a potential threat, whether that threat was real or not. No one had forgotten her warning to Fury, that she was powerful enough to blast the planet apart.

Phil himself didn’t doubt her power. He only hoped no one provoked her into using it.

“You’re talking about Michael,” he told Pierce. Pierce gave a nod.

“What’s your impression of her?” Pierce asked. “I’ve read the reports, of course, but I’m not talking psych profiles or data analysis. What’s your gut tell you?”

Phil blinked a little in surprise, taken aback by the question. Normally his superiors didn’t ask him to rely on gut instinct.

“She seems to regard herself as aloof from humanity,” said Phil. “With the exception of her family and Tony Stark, she has no ongoing personal connections that we know of – she seems to have severed them around the time that she became Michael.”

“Any idea how that happened?” Pierce asked.

Phil shook his head, even though he had a pretty good idea, thanks to his own experiences.

“Michael’s never spoken of how she transitioned from Darcy Lewis to an archangel,” he said, instead of answering truthfully. “We’re still in the dark on that one.”

“I see,” said Pierce, with a flash of discontent. He shook his head. “I suppose even we can’t know everything, although we give it a damn good try.” He glanced back at Phil. “Is she dangerous?”

Phil felt the vial of Grace heat against his skin a second time – as though in warning, he thought, and chose his next words with care.

“I get the feeling she’s one of the more dangerous beings SHIELD is ever likely to encounter,” said Phil. “Is she a threat? I don’t think so. When she took the Tesseract she said she was protecting humanity, and while that could have just been an excuse, I don’t think it was. I think she genuinely believed the Tesseract was a threat to us, and took steps to remove that threat. I don’t think she’s likely to respond well to threats or manipulation – honesty is probably the best tactic, when dealing with her – but I don’t think she would use her abilities against us without dire provocation.”

The Grace remained hot against Phil’s skin as Pierce asked carefully, “And if she was provoked?”

Phil thought for a minute, before answering honestly.

“I think SHIELD would be lucky to be left standing.”

Pierce nodded, descending into his own thoughts for a moment.

“Thank you for the advice, agent,” he said, a little absently. “If you’ll excuse me, I have rather a lot to be going on with.”

“Of course, sir,” said Phil, and watched Pierce leave.

Slowly the vial of Grace cooled against Phil’s skin, leaving Phil feeling troubled.

Yes. Something was most definitely up. But _what_ , and what did Pierce have to do with it?

* * *

Phil was in his office when one of his subordinates appeared in the doorway, face pale.

“Sir,” he said, “I think you should see this.”

Phil trusted Stilinski. He rose from his chair.

“Where?” he asked briefly.

“The main operations room, sir,” said Stilinski. Phil didn’t wait, but headed straight for the operations room.

There, he arrived just in time to see Jasper Sitwell addressing everyone in the room.

“–all security cameras in the city go through this monitor, right here,” said Sitwell, gesturing to the main screen. Captain Rogers’ SHIELD file was there, for everyone in the room to see, his photograph staring out of the screen with solemn blue eyes. Phil experienced a sinking feeling. “Scan all open sources – phones, computers, PDAs, whatever. If someone tweets about this guy, I want to know about it.”

“Excuse me, Agent Sitwell,” Phil called out. A murmur went through the assembled agents as he strode across the room. “What’s going on here?”

Phil had known Jasper Sitwell for years. Considered him a friend, even. But Jasper looked at Phil with hostile eyes, and said calmly, “This isn’t your op, Agent Coulson.”

“I’m aware of that,” said Phil. “Under whose authority are you conducting this operation?”

“Mine,” said a new voice, and Phil turned to see Pierce walk into the room.

There was more murmuring, and Agent Thirteen called out, “With all due respect, if SHIELD is conducting a manhunt for Captain America we deserve to know why.”

Phil never took his eyes off Pierce as the man responded, “Because he lied to us. Captain Rogers has information regarding the death of Director Fury. He refused to share it. As difficult as this is to accept, Captain America is a fugitive from SHIELD.”

Phil saw the agent standing behind Pierce make an incredulous face. He felt much the same.

“Maybe Captain Rogers had a good reason for lying to us,” Phil said calmly.

“You think so, Phil?” asked Pierce, stepping closer.

“I do, sir.” Phil’s gaze never wavered.

“Whether Captain Rogers has a good reason or not is irrelevant,” said Pierce. “He is deliberately obstructing our investigation into Fury’s death. Fury was my friend, and I will not stand for that.” Pierce’s eyes bored into Phil.

“And I refuse to stand for SHIELD going after an innocent man, one who has given much for this country – for this world,” said Phil. “Maybe Captain Rogers is keeping information from you. The question is, why would he think you untrustworthy?”

There was another murmur from the agents around them, and Pierce’s eyebrows slowly rose.

“You think I’m untrustworthy, Agent Coulson?”

“I trust Steve Roger’s judgement,” said Phil. “Sir.”

Pierce sighed, long and weary. Then:

“Agent Sitwell, Agent Coulson is to be arrested and stripped of his clearance level, starting immediately.”

There was outcry from some of the agents at that, but –

“Yes, sir,” said Jasper, and gestured to the armed agents by the door.

Phil didn’t try to run, although the vial of Grace grew hot against his skin.

“I truly am sorry about this, Phil,” said Pierce sadly, as two agents took Phil by the arms. “But there’s no room for divided loyalties in SHIELD.”

“Exactly,” said Phil, and watched Pierce’s eyes sharpen in suspicion for an instant, before the sad expression returned.

“Keep him contained,” said Pierce, and Phil was marched out of the operations room at gunpoint.

Phil considered the pros and cons of fighting his way out of the situation the entire way to the holding cells, but in the end, he chose to submit – for the moment. Even he would have trouble escaping all of the assembled agents of SHIELD; he was only human, after all.

The agents escorting him didn’t bother to search him for weapons: they simply shoved him into a cell and locked the door behind him.

Phil sank down onto the bunk, and rested his head in his hands. Maybe he would have been better off going along with the situation until he had a chance to help Rogers – but everyone knew about his admiration for the Captain, and Pierce probably wouldn’t have trusted Phil anyway. Besides, Phil could be underhanded when he had to be, but the thought of helping SHIELD hunt down Captain America – even with the intention of secretly assisting Rogers – burned in his gut.

Phil closed his eyes, and leaned back against the cold metal wall of his cell. He had a feeling it would be best if no one knew about Gabriel just yet, but Michael... well, everyone already knew about her.

 _Archangel Michael,_ he prayed, _SHIELD is trying to hunt down Steve Rogers. Fury was assassinated, and I’m afraid that Alexander Pierce, the head of the World Security Council, was involved somehow. I’ve been arrested, but I should be fine for the moment. Please protect Steve as best you can._

Nothing happened – and then Phil’s phone pinged. He swiped to unlock the screen, and stared at the message there.

 _On it,_ the text said simply. Phil recognised the number as the one belonging to Darcy Lewis.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, and settled down to wait.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Michael dropped into the back seat of the car Steve and Natasha were travelling in with a cheery, “Hey guys!”

An instant later Natasha’s gun was in Michael’s face, while Steve cursed and almost swerved off the road.

Michael watched them both with big, innocent eyes worthy of Gabriel, until the car was travelling in a straight line again and Natasha had given a frustrated exhale and relaxed.

“You would have deserved it if I’d shot you,” said Natasha, without lowering her weapon.

“Then you could have cleaned up your own mess, because I don’t clean up for people who blow my head off,” said Michael. “That shit hurts.”

Although probably not as much as having your vessel set on fire with a holy oil Molotov cocktail did, Michael thought, remembering that incident.

Natasha gave her an incredulous stare, as though wondering if Michael were serious.

“Someone blew your head off?” Steve asked. He seemed to have recovered from his surprise, and was now driving calmly, glancing at Michael in the rear-view mirror.

Michael shrugged.

“Not yet, but I did get Molotoved once. Not that anything like that slows me down for long.”

Natasha huffed disbelievingly, but finally put away her gun, and turned back to face the front of the car.

Michael leaned forward.

“Can someone explain why I just got a prayer from Coulson telling me that he’s been arrested, you’re on the run, and Fury’s dead?”

“Coulson’s what?” Natasha asked sharply.

“Coulson’s been arrested?” Steve repeated. This seemed to be news.

“Apparently, but he also said he’s fine for the moment,” said Michael. Coulson’s prayer had been tinged with worry, but not for himself. “I’ll check on him later. So,” Michael leaned her elbows on Natasha and Steve’s seats, “you want to fill me in?”

“There’s not that much to tell,” said Steve, but he filled Michael in anyway.

Michael sat back, digesting what she’d been told.

“Well, just so you guys know, Coulson thinks Pierce is involved with Fury’s death, somehow.”

“I thought they were friends?” asked Steve. Natasha said nothing, her expression unreadable.

Michael just looked at Steve.

Steve exhaled loudly, and admitted, “Fury did tell me not to trust anybody, I guess.” He glanced at Michael. “Although, if we can’t trust an archangel...”

“About that,” said Michael. “You didn’t call Gabriel, why? I know no one knows he’s Gabriel outside the Tower, but even as Tony Stark, Gabriel could have raised hell.”

Steve and Natasha exchanged glances.

“It’s not that we don’t trust Tony,” said Steve.

“But?” asked Michael.

“Tony makes volatile situations worse,” said Natasha bluntly. “Whatever’s going on here needs a more delicate touch, not the full might of an archangel. Tony’s overkill.”

Michael didn’t know whether to be offended or entertained that Gabriel was, apparently, considered overkill, when she wasn’t.

“You realise I have more power than my brother?” she asked.

“It’s not about power,” said Steve. “Besides, we can do this ourselves.”

Michael laughed then, more for show than out of genuine amusement.

“Steve, you have all of SHIELD after you,” she pointed out. “You really think you two can do this alone?”

“We’re not alone,” said Steve. “We have you.”

Which was fair enough. Michael slumped back against the car seat and texted her brother.

_Steve is in trouble. Stay out of it. I’ve got it handled._

A moment later her phone pinged, and there was a message from Gabriel saying, _What kind of trouble?_

 _Sit this one out,_ Michael texted back, annoyed, and then,  _SHIELD is after him, Fury’s dead, and Coulson’s been arrested by SHIELD. Also, they’re probably reading our texts, FYI._

 _Well duh,_ Gabriel texted. _You really want me to sit this one out? Really?_

 _I really do,_ texted Michael. _Look after your own, okay? Make sure the other Avengers are safe._

_Well, when you put it that way..._

Michael rolled her eyes at the last message, and shoved her phone back in her pocket.

“So where are we headed?” she asked the other two.

“Somewhere with a computer store,” said Natasha. “We need to find out what’s on that USB drive.”

Michael promptly snapped up a Stark Industries laptop. It was the latest model.

“Here,” she said, and passed the laptop to Natasha.

“There’s no way we’ll get a wi-fi connection out here,” Natasha muttered.

“Oh ye of little faith,” grumbled Michael.

Natasha opened the laptop, and inserted the USB. There was the sound of fast typing.

“What are you doing?” asked Steve, glancing over.

“I’m going to try running a tracer,” said Natasha. “This is a program that allows you to track hostile malware, so, if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.”

“Are you hacking into SHIELD for this?” Michael asked curiously.

“Unfortunately.” Natasha didn’t look up from the laptop. “They’ll be able to track our location, but that will take a few minutes.”

For several minutes, there was silence in the car. Then:

“Camp Lehigh, New Jersey,” said Natasha. Then she glanced at Steve, whose grip on the steering wheel had tightened. “What? Do you know it?”

“I used to,” said Steve grimly.

“You want me to take us there?” asked Michael.

“That would cut down our journey by a lot,” Natasha agreed.

“Okay. Steve, pull over.”

Steve pulled over to the side of the road. Michael snapped her fingers, and the landscape around them changed.

All of a sudden they were sitting outside a large empty military compound. Steve killed the engine, and the three of them got out.

“This is it,” said Steve.

“Okay, well while you guys have a look around, I’m going to chase up a loose end,” said Michael. “Shoot me a prayer if you need me.”

“A prayer?” Natasha repeated dubiously.

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked, apparently okay with the whole prayer thing.

“I’m going to find the Winter Soldier.” With that, Michael left Steve and Natasha to explore Camp Lehigh on their own, and slid back into the past.

Michael landed outside Steve’s apartment. She still didn’t know exactly why he’d moved out of the Tower several months ago, except that he’d said he ‘needed more space,’ and that it had something to do with a fight he’d had with Gabriel. Still, Steve had seemed to be happy enough, living on his own, so Michael had left it alone, even though Gabriel had whinged about losing one of his housemates.

Michael figured that whatever Gabriel had done, Steve’s relocation was probably justified: Gabriel had getting on your last nerve down to a fine art, and the only ones he didn’t deliberately try that with were Pepper – because Gabriel quietly adored her – and Michael. Michael still wasn’t sure precisely why Gabriel didn’t really needle her the way he did the others; Michael hoped that it was because of their sibling relationship, and not because Gabriel knew full well that if it came down to it, Michael had enough power to kill him. She’d never asked, though, too afraid of his answer.

Clearing her mind of extraneous thoughts, Michael made herself invisible, and waited. Sure enough, there was the sound of a gun firing, and within about a minute Steve burst out of the apartment, and took off running after a shadowy figure on the rooftop.

Michael followed.

After an impressive chase, Steve finally had the figure cornered on the edge of a rooftop, and threw his shield – only for the Winter Soldier to catch it with a hand that glinted silver in the moonlight. The assassin threw the shield back at Steve, and before Steve knew how to react, leapt off the roof.

As he hit the ground below, Michael snapped her fingers, freezing him in place, and making him invisible to anyone passing by.

“Well, what have we got here?” Michael asked, circling around the Winter Soldier. One of the assassin’s arms was gleaming silver, a small red star painted on the shoulder. The rest of him was dressed in dark tactical gear, and a face mask that left only his eyes and forehead exposed. His hair was long and unkempt.

That was all on a physical level. As Michael stared into the oddly-blank eyes, she took a good look at the assassin’s soul, and gasped.

Whoever this guy really was, _something_ had torn his soul up good, over and over, leaving his soul a mass of scars. And yet, beneath the scarring, what was left of the Winter Soldier’s soul was relatively pure... and radiating such pain and anguish that Michael knew, instinctively, that something was very, very wrong.

Michael stared at the assassin. With a snap of her fingers she freed up his ability to speak, although he was still frozen from the neck down, unable to move.

“You didn’t decide to kill Nick Fury of your own free will, did you?”

The Winter Soldier said nothing. But the look in his eyes...

Michael didn’t really care much about most people, but she wasn’t without compassion, either. She patted the assassin’s cheek gently, and said, “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”

Still the Winter Soldier said nothing. So, with a sigh, Michael went rifling through his thoughts.

They were curiously empty. While the man’s mind was crisp and clear where his mission was concerned, everything else was... jumbled, full of confusion and anxiety. More disturbing than that, the Winter Soldier’s memories went back a day or so, and then just – stopped. All that was left in their place was an impression of tremendous agony.

Michael withdrew from the Winter Soldier’s mind, feeling pensive about what she’d sensed.

“It’s okay,” she told the assassin, “no one’s going to use the chair on you ever again, understand me? And I might not be the healer Raphael was, but I should be able to help with your memories, and then–”

_Blessed Michael, Archangel,_  
_defend us in the hour of hellish battle;_  
_be our sethguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil..._

Michael sighed as Steve’s prayer intruded on her mind.

“Hold that thought.”

Michael created a pocket universe, modelling it to look like the inside of a comfortable suburban home, and stuck the Winter Soldier inside it, unfreezing him as she did so. Then she took a leap forward in time, back to when and where Steve’s prayer had been projected from.

Steve and Natasha latched onto her immediately.

“What –”

“Incoming missile!” Steve snapped, and that was all Michael needed to know. She took flight immediately, bringing Steve and Natasha with her, and landed in Central Park.

“Where are we?” asked Natasha. She and Steve both looked shaken.

“Central Park,” Michael responded. “What happened?”

Steve swallowed.

“Arnim Zola. He’d... put himself into a computer, somehow.”

Michael had heard far stranger things.

“Who’s Arnim Zola?”

“He was a scientist with HYDRA.” Steve’s words seemed to come with difficulty. “We captured him in ’44. Apparently SHIELD recruited him, after the war.”

“HYDRA’s been inside SHIELD all this time,” said Natasha. “Since the very beginning.”

Michael knew what HYDRA was. Darcy Lewis had always had an interest in history – those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it, and all that jazz – and during high school Captain America had kind of been her celebrity crush. She’d done her research on Captain America’s role in the war – the parts of it that had been de-classified, anyway – and HYDRA had been a major part of that history.

“HYDRA,” said Michael, all pretence of Darcy falling away, leaving a grim-faced archangel.

Steve sighed heavily.

“Yes.”

Michael considered this for a moment.

“Then you need to draw them out into the open,” she said, because she’d been a general, once. “Devise a way to bring them out where you can identify HYDRA agents and deal with them.”

“But first we need to find somewhere safe,” said Natasha. “We can’t go back to the Tower, we’d endanger everyone there.”

Michael frowned, because while she and Gabriel could probably defend everyone, Natasha was nonetheless correct.

“I know a guy,” said Steve. Michael and Natasha looked at him. “Met him on my morning run, the other day. Said his name was Sam Wilson. Ex-military.”

“Steve, you met him once,” said Natasha.

Steve shrugged.

“My gut says we can trust him,” he said simply. “And where else are we going to go?”

Natasha went quiet at that.

“Any idea where this guy lives?” Michael asked. Steve shook his head.

“No, but he works at the VA office.”

“Okay,” said Michael. “I can work with that.”

* * *

Sam Wilson opened his door and stared at the three of them, like the last thing he’d expected was for Captain America to show up on his doorstep.

“I’m sorry about this,” said Steve. “We need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha added. She sounded tired down to the bone. Steve didn’t seem much better.

Wilson just stared at them for a moment. Then:

“Not everyone,” he said, and opened his door wide enough for them to walk in.

“Thanks,” said Michael, following Steve and Natasha inside.

“You want something to drink?” Wilson asked tactfully, instead of asking what the hell they were doing at his place. “Something to eat?”

Steve started to say no, then stopped.

“That’d be good,” he agreed wearily. “It’s been a long day.”

“Sure,” said Wilson, as Natasha and Steve sat down in different chairs. “Just give me a few minutes, I can do up some sandwiches, or something.”

“Thank you,” said Steve quietly.

“Not a problem, man,” said Wilson. He looked at Michael curiously, but disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to make sandwiches.

Steve and Natasha sat in silence.

Michael waited.

After about ten minutes, Wilson returned with a plate piled high with sandwiches.

“This should help for the time being,” he said, putting the plate down on the coffee table. “You guys look beat.”

Steve and Natasha both reached for sandwiches.

“So,” said Wilson, once the two of them had begun eating, “I know Captain America and Black Widow, but who are you?” he asked Michael.

“Michael,” she responded briefly.

“Michael?” Wilson repeated, frowning in confusion.

“The archangel,” said Steve.

Wilson’s eyes widened.

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Michael concentrated for a moment, and the air turned electric, like the moment before a lightning strike. Behind her, a pair of enormous shadows spread themselves out across the wall.

Wilson gaped, and Michael let the effect drop. The tingling of electricity in the air faded away.

“Okay, not kidding, then,” he said, looking a little pale.

“You get used to it,” said Natasha. Wilson blinked at her.

“Okay,” he said again. “So you’re St Michael the archangel.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but he kept talking. “Would someone like to explain to me how Captain America, Black Widow, and an _archangel_ become fugitives?”

“You ever hear of SHIELD?” asked Natasha.

“The covert organisation?” Wilson asked. “Sure. Still not sure exactly what they do, but I’ve heard of them.”

“They’ve been taken over by HYDRA,” said Steve.

“HYDRA,” said Wilson. “You mean, like World War II, Nazi HYDRA?”

“The same,” said Steve. “They’ve been hiding inside SHIELD all this time, but they’ve just killed the Director of SHIELD, and one of their people has taken over.”

Wilson took a deep breath.

“You guys aren’t pulling your punches, are you?” He dropped into the nearest chair. “I think you’d better explain. Properly.”

So Steve and Natasha explained the events of the last day, starting with Nick Fury’s assassination and going from there.

Wilson was frowning deeply by the end of it.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Okay. I have a question.”

“Go for it,” said Steve.

“Why is HYDRA making a move now?” Wilson asked. “I mean, if what you say is true, they’ve been inside SHIELD for, what, sixty-something years? What’s so important that they’re taking control now?”

“Project Insight,” said Steve grimly. Natasha glanced at him sharply.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Wilson. Michael just sat and listened. “What’s Project Insight?”

“Three heavily armed helicarriers,” said Steve, “designed to neutralise threats before they even happen. According to Fury, each helicarrier can eliminate one thousand hostiles per minute. Imagine what HYDRA could do with that kind of weaponry.”

Even Natasha, who was normally imperturbable, looked horrified. Wilson looked downright ill.

“So what do we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Steve heavily. “Not yet.”

“Tell everyone,” Michael suggested. The others stared at her. “I’m serious. We go in there, we tell everyone what’s going on, and then we shut the helicarrier project down.”

“SHIELD would break apart,” said Natasha, but she was looking thoughtful.

“Better broken apart than HYDRA,” said Steve darkly.

“Think about it,” Michael suggested, and got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a loose end to finish dealing with. You know how to reach me if there’s trouble.”

“You were looking for the Winter Soldier. Did you find him?” asked Natasha warily.

“Oh yeah,” said Michael. “And whatever they did to turn him into what he is now, it wasn’t pretty. I’m going to see if I can reverse some of it.”

“Is that wise?” asked Steve. Michael looked at him. “I mean–”

“He didn’t choose to get involved with this,” said Michael. “I get the feeling he hasn’t had any choices in a long time. Steve, he doesn’t even remember his own _name_ , that’s how bad it is.”

“They unmade him?” Natasha blurted, and then pressed her lips together, like she hadn’t quite meant to say that aloud. The question echoed loudly in her thoughts, rousing half-buried memories of her own.

“Completely,” said Michael, and her voice was cold as she recalled the state of the Winter Soldier’s mind. “So...”

“Good luck,” said Natasha.

“You too,” said Michael, and launched herself into the pocket universe where she had stored the Winter Soldier.

Michael found herself standing in a brightly-decorated kitchen. The air was quiet and still, with nothing to indicate that there was anyone else in the ‘house’ with her. Michael exhaled slowly, and walked into the next room. There was a flash of movement, and a sharp pain in Michael’s chest.

She looked down to see a knife embedded there.

She looked up again to see the Winter Soldier staring at her in confusion. Evidently he wasn’t used to people continuing to stand there with a knife in their heart.

Michael sighed, and snapped her fingers. The Winter Soldier froze in place.

“I suppose it was unrealistic of me to hope you’d make yourself comfortable,” said Michael, walking forward, and pulling the knife out of her chest. It dropped to the carpet with a dull _thump_. “Let’s take a look at you.”

She delved back into the Winter Soldier’s mind, this time with an eye to fixing it. As far as Michael could tell, all of the damage there had been done through physical means, not supernatural – which, by the grace of God, meant that hopefully Michael could repair what had been done.

Michael reached up, and gently removed the man’s face mask. Then she paused, staring at the face that was revealed to her.

Darcy Lewis had seen a number of old photos and newsreels with James ‘Bucky’ Barnes in them, back during the days of her Captain America crush. Usually he was smiling in them. His smile was extraordinarily different from the blank expression the Winter Soldier was wearing, but that didn’t stop Michael from noting the eerie similarities between their features.

Michael felt a slow, cold upswing of anger as she contemplated the likelihood of two different men having the same face, and how much more likely it was that somehow, they were the same person.

Steve was going to cry when he found out, she knew it.

Michael frowned deeply, and began the long, difficult business of putting Bucky Barnes’ mind back together.

It was hard going. Barnes’ mind began rejecting the newly-rediscovered memories almost as soon as soon as Michael found them. He was unable to move, but his eyes were wide and agonized. Michael found herself moving through decades of memories of torture, mind-wipes, and de-humanising treatment, intermixed with memories of assassination missions. Any human would have been forced to stop, unable to deal with the barrage, but Michael was an archangel. She kept going, bringing back memory and knowledge and tying the two together.

Eventually the sharp, painful memories gave way to softer, more clouded ones. Michael slowed her pace, taking extra time with these, restoring them as best she could, trying to give them prominence over the ones that had followed. As she went, stringing memory after memory together into sequence, she only hoped that this would be enough. Humans were more than the sum of their memories, after all – and Barnes’ soul was so terribly scarred...

Finally, Michael was done. She pulled out of Barnes’ mind, and found him still frozen in place, but unconscious. She tapped two fingers to his forehead.

Barnes came awake with a strangled sound, and jerked away with a horrible cry as Michael restored his ability to move. He collapsed to the floor.

“My God,” he said in a croaky voice, “what have I _done?_ ”

“Only what you were made to do,” Michael said softly, and Barnes’ head jerked up, as he realised abruptly that he wasn’t alone. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Michael watched as Barnes came apart, sobbing, crying for everything he had done and everything he had lost. The seventy years worth of memories he was dealing with were too much for him.

With a sigh, Michael reached into his mind again, this time erecting a box. Everything after 1944 was swept into it, and when she was done, Michael closed the box up tight.

When she looked at Barnes again, he was sitting on the floor, looking confused.

“Where the hell am I?” he asked. His eyes fell on Michael. “Who the hell are you?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Michael asked.

Barnes shook his head.

“I... I fell,” he said haltingly. “And then...” he swallowed. “I woke up, and Zola...” His voice cracked on the name, and Barnes said no more.

Michael nodded, satisfied that Barnes wasn’t going to fall apart this time, despite how horrible his memory of waking up with the metal arm and Zola in his face was.

“That was seventy years ago, Sergeant,” Michael said crisply, and watched as Barnes eyes blew wide. “When you were captured in 1943, Zola injected you with a variant of the super-soldier serum.” That much Michael had deduced for herself, from Barnes’ memories. “After you fell from the train, you were captured by HYDRA, who wiped your memories so that you no longer knew who you were, and conditioned you to become the perfect assassin.”

“Conditioned me?” Barnes repeated, looking queasy. Michael nodded.

“You’ve been undertaking assassination missions for HYDRA for the last seventy years,” she finished gently.

Barnes swallowed again.

“You said they wiped my memories. So how come I remember?”

“That would be my doing,” said Michael. “I repaired the damage HYDRA did to your mind. Your other memories are there too, but locked away where you can’t access them. They were too painful for you to deal with.”

“Guess I owe you a thank you, then,” Barnes rasped. He looked around. “Whoever you are. Where am I, and who are you?”

“You’re currently inside a pocket universe,” Michael told him, “and my name is Michael.”

One of Barnes’ eyebrows slowly travelled upwards.

“Ain’t that an odd sort of name for a lady?” he asked.

Michael shrugged.

“It was my name before it became anyone else’s,” she said, and then she used the same move she’d pulled on Wilson, letting the shadows of her wings spread across the wall behind her.

Barnes went wide-eyed.

“You’re...”

“Yes,” Michael agreed.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” said Barnes fervently, and then looked horrified at himself for blaspheming in the presence of an angel. “I mean–”

“It’s alright,” Michael assured him gently. “I don’t mind.”

Barnes blinked several times, and then shook his head.

“Why me?” he asked, and Michael politely ignored the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, and the way his voice broke. “And why now?”

Michael considered what to say.

“I haven’t involved myself in the affairs of humans for a long time,” she said finally. “But a few years ago I was given a bit of a wake-up call, you could say.” If you could call being shut in the Cage by the Winchesters, being reborn as a human, and then regaining her Grace anything as prosaic as a ‘wake-up call.’ “I’ve been helping to protect this planet since then, and I’ve made a few friends. Steve Rogers is one of them.”

Barnes took a deep breath.

“Of course he is,” he said, and then stopped, before he could start swearing.

Michael grinned briefly.

“Yeah. Anyway, you were sent to kill a guy Steve knew, which led to all kinds of trouble which we’re still trying to sort out, and in the process I decided to track you down. Seriously, you have no idea how surprised I was to find out that you were Bucky Barnes. To be honest, it was more luck than anything that I found you. As for why... well, you did good for your country, and no one deserves the fate HYDRA had picked out for you.”

Barnes eyes were wet.

“What now?” he asked unsteadily.

“I think,” said Michael thoughtfully, raising her fingers ready to snap, “that it’s about time you saw Steve again.”

And she snapped her fingers.

Steve dropped his spoon into his bowl of cereal with a clatter, eyes wide and disbelieving as he took in who was standing next to Michael. Natasha was halfway to the knife block on the kitchen counter when Steve went, “ _Bucky?_ ”

“Hey pal,” said Barnes, a little tremulously, and with a smile that twisted on his face.

Steve nearly knocked the table over in his rush to get to his friend.

“How–” he started, and stopped, lost for words.

“Allow me to introduce Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier,” said Michael.

“Well, shit,” said Wilson, looking just as stunned as Steve.

“ _What did they do to you?_ ” Steve demanded of Barnes fiercely. Barnes looked overwhelmed.

“Don’t really remember,” he said honestly. “I remember the arm, but nothing after that. The...” he swallowed, “the _archangel_ said the memories were too much for me.”

Steve’s face crumpled, and he seized Barnes in a hug. Barnes hugged back almost as tightly, with both his living arm and the metal one.

Watching them both gave Michael a warm, fuzzy feeling somewhere in the vicinity of her chest.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Steve, and Barnes just stood there and _clung_.  
 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some violence in this chapter, because Lucifer and Alexander Pierce.

**Chapter Three**

Phil was half-dozing when the door to his cell was jerked open. Phil was awake and alert immediately, clearing his mind and making himself ready for whatever happened next. Externally nothing changed – he was still sitting on his bunk, without moving – but Phil’s mind kicked into action, his eyes snapping into focus as Alexander Pierce and Jasper Sitwell walked into his cell.

“You know we’ve been monitoring Michael’s phone,” said Pierce conversationally. “You’ve done some of the monitoring yourself, so you should know that. It means that we saw that little message you received. What did you do, Phil?”

Phil said nothing.

Pierce nodded to Jasper.

Jasper hit Phil across the face.

Phil felt the sting, the pain of it, at the same time as he felt the vial of Grace heat in what was undoubtedly rage.

He smiled at Pierce.

“I’m a SHIELD agent. Do you really expect that to work on me?”

“What did you tell her? How did you contact her?” Pierce demanded.

“I invited the power of prayer into my life,” said Phil, deadpan, and this time he was expecting it when Jasper hit him again.

“You’re going to talk, Phil,” said Pierce. “The fate of the world depends on it.” He looked at Sitwell. “Keep going until he talks.”

“That’s going to take a while,” Jasper said dubiously. Pierce smiled.

“We have time,” he said.

“If the wrong person finds out...” Jasper began, but Pierce cut him off.

“Then we’ll deal with them. I want to know how much Michael knows.”

Jasper finally nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he said. Pierce smiled again, and left the cell.

Jasper looked down at Phil.

“Don’t make me do this,” he said, and there was a hint of honest emotion in his voice.

Phil looked up at him, and there was a fleeting impression of memory, there and gone in an instant.

“No one makes us do anything,” he said, with a sad smile.

Jasper hit Phil yet again. This time, he didn’t stop.

Phil curled around himself, but let it happen. There was no point in fighting back, not yet; he was willing to bet that if he tried, a whole lot more agents would appear to help Jasper with his task.

So Phil took what Jasper dished out, distancing himself from what was going on with his body, as the vial of Grace burned against his skin.

Eventually, mercifully, he passed out.

* * *

Phil woke to a kick to the ribs that set off absolute agony, and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. His entire body throbbed with pain, even as his mind catalogued his injuries.

Phil opened his eyes from where he lay on the floor, and looked up to see Pierce staring down at him, looking annoyed.

“I told you to make him talk, not beat him unconscious,” the man snapped.

Jasper just shrugged.

“He’s obstinate.”

Phil closed his eyes, and drifted.

He was brought back to consciousness a second time by the shock of cold water cascading over him. He blinked upwards, to see Jasper looking down at him.

“You,” said Jasper, “are going to tell me exactly what Michael knows.”

But there was suddenly a crackle from the broadcasting system, and then a familiar voice, crisp and clear with determination.

“ _Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You're heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time to tell the truth. SHIELD. is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce on of them. I don't know who else is, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers tomorrow, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not_.”

The message cut off again.

“Shit,” Jasper swore. He glared down at Phil. “What did you _do_ , Coulson?”

“I’ll never tell,” Phil slurred.

“I believe you.” Jasper turned away, and Phil heard the click of a gun being loaded. “Unfortunately, right now you’re a liability. It’s a pity it’s come to this. HYDRA could have used a man like you.”

Jasper turned back to face Phil.

 _Michael_ , Phil prayed, but there was nothing.

Jasper began to aim.

Phil pulled on the chain around his neck, pulling the vial out from beneath his shirt. With shaking hands, he smashed the vial against the floor.

“What the h–” Jasper’s words were cut off in a roar of light and fire and rage, as the cell was devoured in an instant, and Jasper with it.

Phil should have burned away to nothing just like Jasper, but instead the light and fire poured into him, setting him alight, until he was brimming with power.

The memories came last of all.

Lucifer rolled his shoulders, tilted his head, and stepped out into the ruined corridor.

The last time Lucifer had been himself, Phil Coulson had been a discordant little voice in his head, arguing against everything Lucifer stood for. This time, the dissonance wasn’t quite as great, but the fact was that Lucifer was still of two natures – the archangel, and the man he had been. The two of them were conflicting, and it was enough to give Lucifer a metaphysical headache. The part of him that was strictly _him_ wanted to raze the building to the ground, and then start on the building next to it after that, but the part of him that was still Phil Coulson was arguing that people needed protecting, not to be destroyed.

For a moment his two natures warred with one another, before settling on a course of action that they both agreed on.

Alexander Pierce needed to be dealt with.

But before Lucifer could make his next move, Michael appeared next to him, seconds too late. Her eyes went wide.

Lucifer went still.

“ _Lucifer?”_ Michael asked tentatively.

“Michael,” said Lucifer, and started to smile –

And his head snapped back with the force of an angelic blow as Michael’s fist smashed into his face.

Lucifer winced.

“Was that strictly necessary, sister?”

“You _killed Gabriel_ ,” said Michael, low and fierce.

“And I noticed he’s alive again,” Lucifer pointed out. “Father’s doing, I assume.”

“That’s not the point!” Michael said, her voice still low and angry. “You _killed him_ Lucifer, just because he was trying to protect humanity. Your own brother!”

“Oh, spare me,” said Lucifer. “Have you forgotten he was trying to kill _me_ at the time?”

Michael just glared at him.

“At least he was trying to do what was right, instead of easy!”

Lucifer blinked.

“Did you just paraphrase Harry Potter at me?” He frowned. “And you think protecting humanity is right? Since when are you on the ‘save the cockroaches’ bandwagon?”

“They’re not cockroaches,” said Michael. “They’re people. And they deserve better.”

 _I agree,_ said Phil Coulson.

Lucifer sighed theatrically.

“Being human rubbed off on you, didn’t it?” he asked. “I’m disappointed, Michael. Really.”

“Right back at you,” Michael shot back.

“Enlivening though this conversation is, I have somewhere else to be,” said Lucifer, and began walking.

Michael blocked his way.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

Lucifer gave her a put-upon look.

“To destroy Alexander Pierce,” he said patiently.

That evidently struck some kind of chord, because Michael’s eyes turned hard, and she stepped out of his way.

“Don’t hurt anyone who isn’t HYDRA,” she said sternly. “I mean it, Lucifer.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, and considered the situation. The part of him that was Phil was agreeing vehemently with Michael, while at the same time being firmly in favour of destroying HYDRA and its agents. The rest of Lucifer didn’t care about allegiances. He wanted _blood_.

“Fine,” said Lucifer, deciding to placate his sister. “Just HYDRA.”

Michael gave him a suspicious look, but then she was gone again – off to help her little friends, no doubt.

Lucifer straightened his suit, removing the creases and bloodstains with a flick of his fingers, and continued down the hallway.

The lights flickered as he walked underneath them, a sign of Lucifer’s bottled-up fury.

Pierce was going to _regret_ treating Phil Coulson the way he did.

Someone shot Lucifer, bullets punching through his vessel, and with a swipe of Lucifer’s fingers the shooter was slammed into the wall, hard enough and at the right angle to break her neck. Lucifer kept walking.

The rest of his walk to the main operations room went much the same – HYDRA agents tried to kill him, HYDRA agents died a messy death, and Lucifer continued on his search for Pierce.

Lucifer walked into the main operations room and into a hail of bullets. He stood there calmly, waiting. As he stood there unaffected by the bullets tearing through him, the agents grew more and more nervous.

Finally Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the assembled agents crumpled to the ground, dead in an instant. Only Pierce was left, standing there with his eyes wide.

“What are you?” he asked, slowly backing away.

Lucifer smiled pleasantly.

“I’m Michael’s younger brother,” he said. “You could say I’m the black sheep of the family. They call me Lucifer; I’m sure you recognise the name.”

“Oh, God,” Pierce croaked, as Lucifer stepped forward.

Lucifer tutted.

“I’m afraid He’s left the building,” said Lucifer sympathetically. “It’s just you and me here, Alexander – I can call you Alexander, right?”

“What do you want from me?” Pierce asked, with commendable calm, given the amount of terror he was experiencing.

“I wanted to tell you that you really shouldn’t have treated Phil the way you did,” said Lucifer calmly. “After all, if Phil hadn’t been afraid for his life, he never would have felt the need to unleash me.” Lucifer tilted his head, studying Pierce dispassionately. “He was me without my powers, you see – but Michael gave him the vial full of power, just in case he ever needed it. And today, he felt he did. So really, this is all your fault, Alexander.”

“Don’t – stay away –” Pierce said, his panic starting to break through his apparent composure. Lucifer smiled, and shoved a hand through Pierce’s chest.

Pierce gurgled for a moment, before he slumped, dead.

Lucifer pulled his hand free, nose wrinkling in distaste at the blood covering it. He snapped his fingers, and was completely clean once more.

 _Was that really necessary?_ asked Phil. Lucifer ignored that part of himself, and began walking back down the corridor, into the depths of the building. He had HYDRA agents to find.

Quietly, Lucifer began whistling _Sympathy for the Devil_ to himself, the whistling and the sound of his footsteps the only noise in the quiet of the hallway.

* * *

It took Lucifer a while to work his way through the building in a thorough and methodical manner, killing every HYDRA double-agent he came across, sparing the genuine SHIELD agents, for the moment.

Several SHIELD agents expressed relief at seeing him, and Lucifer only smiled and recommended that they continue on their way.

On the twenty-second floor, Lucifer found Captain America, halfway through a fight with a bunch of HYDRA agents, alongside two others who were fighting on his side. As Lucifer watched, Captain Rogers bounced his shield off several HYDRA agents, sending them unconscious. His sidekicks finished off the rest.

Rogers straightened, and turned his head to look at Lucifer, relaxing when he saw who it was.

“Agent Coulson,” he said, looking relieved.

“Sorry, but Agent Coulson no longer exists,” said Lucifer, surveying his human self’s lifelong hero. Rogers was heroic enough, he supposed, and had enough conviction to rival some of Lucifer’s more zealous siblings. Still, there were more interesting humans out there. “Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name,” Lucifer added, because something of Phil’s sense of humour had stuck.

The black man standing with Rogers paled, and took a step back.

Lucifer smiled at him, amused.

“Uh, Steve?” said the black guy. “ _Really_ don’t think that’s your friend.”

Lucifer’s attention turned to the second man standing with Rogers, whose face was instantly recognisable as James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, Roger’s best friend before he’d been frozen.

Just then Michael appeared, landing not far from where Lucifer stood.

“Lucifer,” she said.

“ _What?_ ” exclaimed Rogers.

“Michael,” said Lucifer agreeably. “Only HYDRA agents harmed, as promised.”

Michael frowned, as though wondering if his words were genuine, but didn’t do Lucifer the insult of openly calling them into question.

“Thank you,” she said doubtfully.

“Please, don’t mention it,” said Lucifer. His gaze returned to Barnes – or more specifically, his soul.

The man’s soul was scarred and torn, speaking of a lifetime of unending trauma, but there was a spark there that Lucifer recognised. Could never fail to recognise, no matter what the circumstances. He wondered that Michael hadn’t said anything.

Then he wondered if she’d even noticed, because he was pretty sure she would have done something by now, otherwise.

“Raphael?” Lucifer asked curiously, even though he didn’t really expect Barnes to remember.

Michael froze.

“ _No_ ,” she breathed.

“Really, Michael, don’t you recognise your own brother?” Lucifer countered.

Michael leaned forward to stare Barnes in the face, which seemed to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was.

“How can you tell?” Michael demanded. “His soul is so scarred!”

“I’d know Raphael anywhere,” said Lucifer calmly, “just as I would you, or Gabriel.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know me, when you saw me?”

“Not really,” Michael admitted. “I don’t seem to be any good at recognising anyone without their Grace.” She sounded faintly embarrassed about it.

Lucifer nodded at that, and turned back to Barnes, studying his battered soul intently.

“What happened to him?” Lucifer asked.

“I am right here, you know,” Barnes said, even though he looked nervous at Lucifer’s continued attention.

Lucifer smiled at him.

“Of course you are,” he said soothingly. “I simply thought you might not wish to talk about it.”

Barnes shifted uncomfortably, and didn’t respond. Rogers and his other friend watched the scene in bewilderment.

Michael frowned darkly. Not a good sign, Lucifer thought.

“HYDRA had him,” Michael explained. “Erased his memories over and over, tortured him, turned him into their pet assassin. I tried giving him the memories back, but he fell apart, so most of them are locked away in his head.”

Lucifer nodded absently.

“Remind me to utterly destroy any further HYDRA agents I encounter,” he said, still sounding calm despite the gout of rage that welled up inside him. Lucifer might have done regrettable things to Gabriel, out of necessity; but no one else was allowed to lay a hand on his favourite siblings. And after Michael, Lucifer had always been closest to Raphael. The youngest of the archangels had looked up to him, followed him around, and Lucifer had nurtured Raphael as best he could, before his fall. To see Raphael like this _burned,_ deep in Lucifer’s Grace. Lucifer vowed to make things right.

“Would someone please explain what is going on?” Rogers asked.

“Of course, Captain,” said Lucifer kindly, turning to him. “The simplest explanation is that James Barnes is our brother Raphael, stripped of his angelic powers.”

“ _Bucky_ is an angel?” Rogers asked weakly.

“Shut up, punk,” Barnes muttered, although he looked fairly disbelieving himself. He glanced between Michael and Lucifer. “You’ve got to be making a mistake. I can’t be...”

“You are,” said Lucifer firmly.

“If he says you are, you probably are,” agreed Michael, who knew Lucifer’s protective rage when she saw it better than anyone. “All of us were human, for a while, and none of us had any clue we’d ever been anything else. Believe me, I never felt like anything special until I got my powers back. The only sign was how quiet it seemed in my own head. And even then, I didn’t understand why I needed to fill the silence. All I knew was that listening to music helped.”

Barnes looked deeply unsettled, even as something clicked into place for Lucifer.

“That was why you refused to give up your iPod in New Mexico,” he said.

Michael nodded, looking chagrined.

“I should have just snapped another one into existence, but my head was still messed up from getting my Grace back. Speaking of which... how are you holding up?”

 _Terribly_ , said Phil.

“I’m fine,” said Lucifer smoothly. “Although I admit that the remnants of Phil Coulson are proving a hindrance.”

Michael patted his shoulder. The contact was pleasant.

“Just let you conscience be your guide,” Michael advised. Lucifer plucked the reference from Phil’s long-ago childhood memories.

“Disney? Really, Michael?” asked Lucifer. “You’re giving me advice from Disney films?”

“I knew I knew that quote from somewhere,” blurted the black guy standing next to Rogers, and then covered his mouth with his hand. Rogers gave him a jaundiced look.

“What, man? I have two nieces,” the black guy muttered, eyeing Lucifer warily.

“Just – don’t be too quick to discard Coulson, okay?” Michael said, her tone tired and distant. “You have a family and friends, remember? Don’t tell me you don’t want to hold onto them.”

Lucifer thought of Phil’s sister, his parents, and little April, and experienced a moment of terrible indecision.

He didn’t let it show.

“Humans. All of them. Why should they matter to me?” Lucifer asked. “What’s to stop me from destroying this world, as I would have destroyed the last one?”

The part of him that was Phil roared in protest.

But Michael spun to face him, eyes blazing, and Lucifer waited on her answer.

“Because I’m asking you not to,” she said fiercely. “Not because I was told to, not because of Father, but for _me_. Because I want the chance to be selfish for once, and I love this world, and I care about its people. Because if you try, it means fighting me and Gabriel, and I know you don’t want that, any more than I do. Because deep down, you care about us, and you care about _people_ this time around, I know you do. Why destroy the Earth, Lucifer? To spite a Father who isn’t even here to care about your actions? A guy who clocked out ages ago? _Why?_ Why not just let it go, and _live?”_

Lucifer winced as his headache worsened, the two different sides of himself screaming different things at him. For a moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance.

But Lucifer was tired, and Michael was right. He did care – about his closest siblings, whom he had loved even after their betrayal, and even the stupid little humans, for all their flaws. Lucifer had been Phil for too long, and some of him had stayed, for better or worse.

“Fine,” said Lucifer, and watched as something hard and furious drained out of Michael, leaving a softness and sorrow that made his throat catch. He spoke past the obstruction. “No destroying the world. I’ll agree to that much.”

“But?” Michael prompted, looking weary.

“HYDRA and everyone who hurt Raphael, no matter whether he was human or angel at the time, is fair game,” said Lucifer. “You, me, and Gabriel excepted, obviously.”

Michael slowly nodded.

“Deal,” she said.

The next moment she threw her arms around Lucifer, startling the life out of him. For a moment he was immobile with surprise. But then, slowly, he hugged his elder sister back, and improbably, the contact eased the part of him that always felt raw and alone, and he felt a little less like killing something.

“I’m so glad we’re not fighting anymore,” said Michael into his ear. Her voice wobbled, and Lucifer realised, with incredulity, that she was on the edge of _crying_.

Michael. The warrior, the general, the hardened, battle-weary soldier who had been willing to bring about his death to ensure her Father’s orders were obeyed. He hadn’t seen any other side of her in a long, long time.

Lucifer felt himself soften, and his grip on Michael tightened.

He realised that Rogers, the black guy, and Barnes were staring at the two of them. He raised an eyebrow.

“No offence, pal,” said Barnes, “but I’m not sure I want to be a part of your family.”

Lucifer smiled at him, warm and fond. So what if Raphael was human? They’d find his Grace, and then Raphael would be restored.

“That really doesn’t matter,” Lucifer said sincerely, and then wondered why Barnes and Rogers looked so alarmed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning for this chapter.

**Chapter Four**

It didn’t take too long, after that, to finish hunting down all the HYDRA agents left in the building. Michael had already stopped HYDRA agents from trying to launch the Project Insight helicarriers early, and after that had failed, most of them had fled the building – those who hadn’t already been incapacitated one way or another, anyway.

Michael, Lucifer, Steve, Wilson and Barnes got to the top floor to find a familiar figure waiting for them, his arm in a sling.

Steve let out a whoosh of air like he’d been hit, and then said stiffly, “Fury. I should have known.”

“Hill told me about your little speech,” said Fury. “HYDRA. I never would have guessed.” His eyes held Rogers’ for a moment, then slid past him to Lucifer.

“Coulson,” he said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “Hill told me Pierce had you arrested.”

Lucifer only studied Fury dispassionately.

“He’s not Coulson anymore,” said Steve.

“Jasper Sitwell tried to kill me,” said Lucifer. “Reclaiming my Grace was the only option if I wanted to live.”

“Your what?” Fury asked. “And what do you mean, he isn’t Coulson anymore?”

“He’s Lucifer,” said Michael. “He regained his powers and memories. Phil Coulson has been subsumed into the greater whole.”

Fury was silent for a moment. He stared at Lucifer, as though trying to discern the truth. Lucifer stared calmly back, and there was no affection or warmth in his gaze.

Fury exhaled, and he hid it well, but Michael saw his grief.

“I see,” said Fury.

“We’ve driven HYDRA out of SHIELD,” said Steve. “They’ll go underground, but they’re still a danger.”

Lucifer cleared his throat.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll deal with them.”

It didn’t take much to imagine what Lucifer would do to them... but Michael found that she didn’t care. HYDRA needed to be stopped, and Lucifer would stop them, and besides – Lucifer wasn’t the only one angry about what had happened to Barnes.

Michael couldn’t see it, but she had no doubt that Lucifer was telling the truth when he identified Barnes as Raphael. And to know that _Raphael_ had gone through all that Barnes had experienced... well, Michael would be angry about that for a very long time.

Steve and Wilson exchanged worried looks, but didn’t argue with Lucifer, which was just as well.

Lucifer turned to Barnes, who looked on-edge.

“James,” he said, and Barnes jolted a little. “If you’re ever in trouble, pray to me or Michael, and we’ll come.”

Barnes just stared at Lucifer. Lucifer smiled faintly, and turned to Fury.

“You and Phil were friends,” he said consideringly, and before Fury could respond, Lucifer snapped his fingers.

Fury gasped as his injuries were miraculously healed. Michael blinked in surprise, while Lucifer promptly vanished.

“Where did he just go?” Fury demanded. Michael shrugged.

“To destroy HYDRA, I guess,” she said. “He was pretty mad to find out what had happened to Barnes.”

“Barnes?” asked Fury, and Michael realised that he hadn’t recognised the man. It was probably all the hair, she thought. The Bucky Barnes Darcy had seen in the old photos and newsreels had been a well-groomed kind of guy. This Barnes... wasn’t.

“That would be me,” said Barnes, with an attempt at a smile. It failed. “James Buchanan Barnes, although mostly people call me Bucky, like this lunkhead here.” He elbowed Steve.

Fury stared.

“Bucky Barnes,” he said finally. “Well, I’ll be damned.” After a moment, he sighed, looking back at Steve.

“I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining this one to the World Security Council,” he said.

Steve didn’t look sympathetic in the slightest.

“We all have our crosses to bear,” he said. “And the world’s a better place without HYDRA. Think what the wrong person could do with those helicarriers, Nick.”

There were footsteps, and Michael glanced around to see Natasha joining them. Natasha stared at Fury, before a tired smile touched her lips.

“It’s good to see you’re alive,” she told him. Fury only inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“Michael,” said Steve. “Can you destroy the helicarriers?”

“ _What?_ ” said Fury. “Captain–”

“It’s too easy for that kind of technology to be misused,” said Steve, and Michael had to give him credit for one thing: he was definitely stubborn. “And I believe that punishment should come _after_ the crime. Otherwise, what are we turning into?”

Fury frowned.

“Much as I sympathise with your point of view–”

“Call me when you two reach a compromise,” Michael interrupted. “I trust you can clean this mess up yourselves?”

“Of course,” said Steve. “Thank you for all your help. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Michael glanced at Barnes one more time, failing yet again to see any sign of Raphael in his tortured soul.

Then she was gone.

* * *

The moment Michael landed in the Tower penthouse, Gabriel was in her face.

“I felt Lucifer regain his Grace. What did you _do_ , Michael?” he demanded.

Michael stood her ground, even though she wanted to take a step back. Gabriel’s eyes were flecked with angry gold, and his Grace was simmering just beneath the surface.

Michael met his eyes, because she took responsibility for her actions, even when she’d rather not.

“I placed his Grace in a vial and gave it to Coulson, just in case he ever needed it. Today, he needed it,” she told Gabriel simply.

Gabriel’s Grace flared, and the lights popped and went out.

“So now he’s back,” Gabriel seethed, “And it’s all going to start all over again!”

“Lucifer promised he won’t try to destroy the world,” said Michael quietly.

Gabriel scoffed openly.

“Please, he didn’t manage to destroy the world back home either, but that didn’t stop him doing a heck of a lot of damage,” Gabriel retorted. “But you don’t care, do you, Michael?”

“Of course I care,” said Michael, stung.

“Oh really? You care more about potential collateral damage more than you do Lucifer, do you?” Gabriel jeered.

Michael frowned.

“I don’t answer to you, Gabriel,” she said, and knew even as she said it that it was the wrong thing to say.

“No, you don’t,” said Gabriel, his eyes hard and bright. “You and Lucifer, you don’t answer to anyone, you just do whatever the hell you want, and damn the consequences! Both of you, you just walk all over everyone else and who cares about the peanut gallery, huh? I thought maybe that being human had changed you for the better, but you’re just the same, aren’t you? Maybe you’re not determined to be _the good son_ anymore, but you still care more about dear ol’ Lucy than the rest of us put together.” Gabriel’s voice was bitter.

 “Gabriel–”

“ _He murdered me!_ ” Gabriel’s voice was a shout. “And you’re too happy he’s _back_ to care!”

“Would you rather he was dead?” Michael asked quietly, her heart aching for her little brother.

“ _Yes!”_ Gabriel yelled. “No! I don’t know!”

He deflated abruptly, and glared wretchedly at Michael.

“I don’t know what I want, Michael, but if he comes here–”

“If he comes here, then call me, and I’ll take care of it,” Michael interrupted firmly. She saw the disbelieving cast to Gabriel’s face, and said, “Look, I know you don’t have a reason to trust him, and every reason to hate him after what he did to you–”

“You bet your ass I do–” Gabriel interrupted, but his expression was angry and afraid rather than hateful.

“–but honestly, I think what he’s most concerned about right now is tracking down the HYDRA agents who hurt Raphael. Bucky,” Michael corrected herself.

“What?” Gabriel looked angry and uncomprehending, so Michael filled him in on the events of the last day or so. It was enough to distract Gabriel for a moment.

“Father’s screwing with us,” Gabriel said flatly. “Has to be.”

Michael just shrugged, because that thought had occurred to her, too. And she was done being the good son, seriously. Let Gabriel be as disrespectful as he liked.

Gabriel descended into furious silence as he considered the latest turn of events.

“So, Lucifer killed me, but he wants to look after Raphael,” he said at last. A candy bar appeared from nowhere. “I always knew I wasn’t his favourite, but talk about adding insult to injury.”

“To be fair,” said Michael, “Lucifer’s idea of looking after someone is to kill everyone who might hurt them. I’m pretty sure Barnes is about as happy as you are.”

To Michael’s inner relief, Gabriel snorted at that, and took a bite out of his candy bar.

“Lucifer, the homicidal guardian angel,” he said. “I almost feel sorry for Raphael.”

“I’m really sorry I sprung this on you,” Michael said honestly, seeing that Gabriel’s fury had abated a little. “But I needed to know that if Phil was in trouble... I couldn’t bear to lose Lucifer completely. I know he’s going to be a problem now he’s got his Grace back, and I’m sorry that you’re hurt and afraid, but Gabriel – he’s my _brother_.”

“Michael,” said Gabriel, sounding tired, “I love you, but you are absolutely hopeless when it comes to Lucifer.”

Michael didn’t deny it, but said, “I punched him, you know.”

“What?” Gabriel sent her a confused look, and she elaborated.

“For killing you. I mean, obviously he deserved a lot worse than that, but... honestly Gabriel, I _do_ care what happens to you. He’s not my only brother, you know.”

Gabriel gave her a long, lost look.

“Just promise me –” he began, and stopped. “Oh, who am I kidding?” he mumbled bitterly.

“Promise you what?” Michael prodded gently.

Gabriel looked at her, his face a blank mask.

“Promise you won’t sacrifice me for his sake,” he said abruptly.

It took Michael a moment to process that, but once she did, she kind of wanted to cry.

“I promise,” she said vehemently. “Gabriel, I _promise_.”

Gabriel blinked in surprise, like he hadn’t expected that, and Michael desperately wanted to hug him.

“Huh,” he said, half to himself. “You actually mean it, too.”

“Of course I mean it,” said Michael. “Gabriel – why did you leave? All those years ago?”

Michael had wondered for so long, but had never dared ask. Now, it seemed important to know.

Gabriel looked at her for a long moment.

“Watching all of you turn on each other, after Father left? Seeing you tear at each other’s throats? I couldn’t bear it,” he said eventually, with such honest emotion in his voice that Michael wanted to hug him more than ever. “No one was listening to me. You’d shut yourself up, determined to prove yourself by killing Lucifer even though it was like carving your heart out. Raphael was drowning in despair and nothing I could say was helping. Lucifer – the less said about him, the better.” Gabriel rubbed a hand over his face. “And everyone else was following your lead, falling into line like we were nothing more than obedient little soldiers, instead of _brothers_. So I ran.”

Michael finally gave in and hugged him. Gabriel shoved her away, a glint of anger in his eyes. Michael stepped back, giving him space.

“I thought things had taken a turn for the better, when we ended up here,” Gabriel went on without prompting. “You and me, without Lucifer... and you were so different from the asshole archangel you’d been ever since Lucifer got his ass locked in solitary, you know? But now it’s all back to you and Lucifer, and he’s going to tear everything apart, just like he always does.”

Michael wanted badly to refute his words, but couldn’t.

“He’s Phil, though,” she said, clinging to hope. “He’s not just Lucifer anymore. He – he might change. He has to.”

Gabriel let out an eloquent snort.

“Yeah, and pigs fly in beautiful, soaring flocks,” he said. “Face it, Michael. Lucifer is never going to be the brother you lost. _Ever_. That ship has sailed. All you’ve got is what’s left of him. And he’s not worth it.”

Michael closed her eyes.

Back before Lucifer’s fall from grace, she and Lucifer had been so close – and even now, now that their connection had soured and twisted, in its own way it was just as strong as ever.

But the part of her that had been Darcy Lewis was reminding her that she had Gabriel, and Eloise, and that maybe, it was time to mourn what she had lost, and let go.

For all that she’d been human, Darcy had always had more perspective than Michael. That was part of the whole problem.

“Just – give me time,” said Michael. “He agreed not to destroy the world, Gabriel – that’s got to be worth something. If he’s willing to put the lives of humanity before his own desires and grievances–”

“So maybe he's undergone some character growth,” Gabriel interrupted harshly. “That doesn’t make him a good person, Michael.”

“Are any of us good people, anymore?” Michael wondered aloud, and Gabriel flinched. “You don’t have the moral high ground there, _trickster_.”

“Hey, I never sank to Lucifer’s level,” Gabriel snapped. “I only ever went after people who deserved it.”

Michael sighed.

“We’re not ever going to agree on this,” she said. “So let’s just let it go, and wait and see what Lucifer does. _Then_ you can tell me ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh, trust me, I will,” said Gabriel. They stared at each other, until Michael turned away.

“I’m going to visit Eloise,” she said. “Don’t come looking for me.”

“Like I _would_ ,” Gabriel shot back, and Michael left him there, without another word.

* * *

Eloise listened to Michael’s story with a sympathetic ear.

“So now the Devil’s on the loose?” she asked.

“You have to understand, he wasn’t always what he is now,” said Michael.

“No, no, I get it,” said Eloise. “It’s all very _you were my brother, Anakin!_ ”

“This isn’t _Star Wars_ , this is my life,” said Michael flatly.

“The analogy still works,” Eloise pointed out. “Because right now, you’re totally Luke hoping there’s still good in Vader, right?”

Michael pursed her lips.

“Right,” said Eloise, taking this for assent. “And Luke was right, okay, there was still some good in Vader. But that didn’t mean Vader wasn’t a monster, and that everyone else wasn’t right to hate him.”

“I know,” said Michael. “Believe me, I _know_.”

“Like Leia,” Eloise continued thoughtfully. “Vader tortured her on the Death Star, so she had every right to feel conflicted about him, even though he was her father too. I’m guessing Gabriel is Leia in this scenario.”

Michael sighed glumly.

“Yeah.”

Eloise hugged her, and Michael leaned into the contact.

“I guess all you can do is wait and see what Lucifer does next,” said Eloise reasonably, after a moment. “And deal with him if he acts all dark side.”

“I don’t know that I can,” Michael admitted. “Ellie, imagine if it was _me_.”

Eloise was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t think I could, either,” she confessed, like that was a bad thing.

“O Father, grant me the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, the courage to change what can be changed, and the wisdom to know the one from the other,” Michael murmured.


End file.
